


Help

by Jofiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:13:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jofiel/pseuds/Jofiel
Summary: Castiel is hurting and Dean can’t take it so he leaves. What if that wasn’t the solution, though?





	Help

**Author's Note:**

> TW for suicidal attempt, read the tags, very tired, doing this on my phone, have fun.

Dean left because he couldn't stand to be around such a self-hating man, couldn't stand to see Castiel become more and more depressed each day.

So he left. He walked out on Cas, and he'd done it with tears threatening to spill over, and when Cas had awoken to Dean about to finally step out of their apartment, leaving him alone for the first time in a year, duffel in hand, Dean had stuttered to try and reason with Cas. Do you know how Cas reacted?

He'd just said, "Oh," with no surprise or pain in his voice, like he'd known for months that he was losing Dean and couldn't care less.

Dean had taken a shaky breath, muttering, "Okay, okay. I- uh, please get help, Cas, and I, um, I promise I'll come back. I just, uh, love you and I can't stand to see you like this and, uh..." for five whole minutes until he'd ducked his head and left, shutting the door softly.

While Dean still called, occasionally, his friend Charlie had been the one really seeing Cas and updating Dean on his condition. Mostly when she met with Dean at some local coffee shop she'd look down and very quietly tell him about how "Cas isn't getting better. Actually, I kinda get the impression he's a lot worse," and then they'd leave soon after, unable to stand the tension in the air caused by the admittance that Cas really wasn't doing as well as Dean needed him to be.

Cas sounded so much better, though, on the phone. He'd always greet Dean rather cheerily with a, "Hello, Dean. I haven't missed a day of therapy or medication, just so you know. But, I don't think you're ready to come home. I just have to work on a few more things, okay?" and then Dean would doubt Charlie's words, hear the conviction in Cas' voice, and tell Cas he still loved him and wished him the best of luck.

Cas would hang up before he could respond to the 'I love you' part, though.

***

It'd been five months since Dean left on that cold, early June morning. Cas seemed to be so much better, and Dean was thinking about moving back in soon. He'd even told Charlie so, but Charlie's response had been one of horrific shock.

"No, Dean! Are you crazy? He's is worse, he hasn't gotten better at all, seriously. Whatever he's telling you is a lie to keep you from seeing him, seeing how bad he is. If you knew you'd go running back to help him and he said that's not what he needed. Actually, you know what? We should go see him, just once, just so you know how bad he is, so you don't go and fuck him up more, no offense," Charlie had scolded. So Dean had agreed, to see Cas for the first time in five months, just to prove Charlie wrong.

***

It was a dark Monday afternoon that they decided to swing by the little New York bookstore Cas worked at five days a week, Sunday through Thursday, which was the only reason Cas got out of bed, according to Charlie. Dean highly doubted that. He would be able to tell if Cas was lying over the phone, if he really wasn't better, right?

Cas had looked so shock to see Dean, but not in a good way at all, not how Dean had hoped he would. And Dean's radiant smile had disappeared the moment he'd seen Cas, so pale and thin, seen the purple bags under his weary eyes. And despite the warm summer-spring weather of the city, Cas wore a thick sweater that Dean found out, after about ten minutes of desperately berating Cas for lying to him, hid both the many scars on his wrists and gaunt form. Dean was so disappointed.

So then he'd sworn to Cas, that very day, that he was going to actually see him once a week. And he did. And, lo and behold, Cas seemed to get better. Tanner, fatter, stronger, the scars disappearing and a normal person's summer wardrobe became Cas' daily wardrobe.

Dean remembered Charlie telling Dean, a worried look in her eyes, that the thorough research she'd done said people who are going to kill themselves only actually do it after they appear to be getting better. And Cas appeared to be better, but like really better, not like he would do anything like kill himself soon, apart from the faraway look in his eyes sometimes that made him look a million years old. He was always sure to hide that from Dean most of the time, though. But Charlie saw straight through the façade and Dean didn't, so he called his redhead friend paranoid and blind to the miracle that was Cas' recovering mental health.

***

And then, one fateful day, six months later, Dean got a frantic call from Charlie. Why she didn't call an ambulance before, Dean would never know, but he'd driven Baby too fast and yet not fast enough to the scene, to the fucking crime scene of his- no, Castiel's apartment. And by the time he got there he was able to see Cas, in his fucking boxer briefs, being carried out on a damn stretcher, medics surrounding him and cuts all over his damn legs. Some fresh, some new, but the point was Cas was fucking scarred and Dead was fucking dumb enough not to notice. And he just about lost it then and there 'cause Cas was smart enough to stop cutting where Dean could see, was smart enough to put on a fake smile and start eating and sleeping and working out again, all for Dean, so he would stop worrying about Cas so that Cas could try to kill himself and, and, and, oh God there was Charlie waving him over and how did she find him? Fuck, Dean just- just couldn't think.

Dean walked up to Charlie, face blanching white, so many questions on his trembling lips. But Charlie just looked sadly up at him and handed him one of three identical envelopes she was clutching, one already torn open. For a second, Dean was lost, and then it hit him like a freight train:

Notes. Suicide notes. One for Charlie, one for his parents, and one for Dean, apparently. And again, somehow, Dean kept it together through that thought, up until he started reading his letter:

Dear Dean,

I understand that you thought I was getting better. I'm so happy for you, baby, I'm so happy that you were able to see me as I once was before I had to leave. Whole. And I know you're probably blaming yourself for not seeing through the charade, but darling, that was how it was supposed to go. You did perfectly fine, and I know I haven't said it in nearly a year but I love you, I still do, so much. And I know that the last time I said it was in June before we went to sleep the night before you left and I'm sorry it had to be this way but it's for the best, really.

You told me you were leaving because you couldn't stand to see me in such a way, but Dean, that'll never change. I tried to take the pills, to see my therapist for two months and then I had to quit because nothing was working. I tried so hard, baby, but this is who I am now. And you can't love me like this even though you might think you do. I still remember the look in your eyes and the distaste- no, hatred in your voice when you told me you were leaving. Darling, I need you to do that for one more day, okay? Remember how I was helpless and that this wasn't your fault and that I was helpless for one day, today, and remember how you couldn't love me anymore. I know it seems a lot, to ask you to hate me, but, love, just do it for one day? For today? And when this day is over, tomorrow I need you to do the same, just for that day, and then the next and then the next. And eventually you'll forget me and marry someone and have a family and all that will be of me will be a distant repulsive memory.

It may seem like a lot, Dean, but I need this one last thing from you, please. Just need you to forget. That's all I ask. I love you.

-Castiel

By the end of the letter, Dean was sobbing, clutching Charlie and crying without any sign of stopping because he could never even come close to what Castiel was asking of him, never forget him or hate him and and Cas thought that the day he left it was out of hate and not love and everything was too much right then for Dean.

But at least Cas would live.

It was hours later that Dean found out Cas had attempted with pills and had to have his stomach pumped, but he would live, unless his mindset continued.

It was hours after that that Dean and Charlie got to see Cas, though Charlie left after a few miinutes to let Dean talk to Cas.

"It's not true," Dean had said to Cas, voice soft and sad, "I never have nor ever will stop loving you." Cas had just looked away.

Fortunately, howver, Cas found a new therapist shortly after, Dr. Ellen Harvel, who was much better than the previous one. Dean moved back in with Cas and kept watch over his boyfriend, making sure he took his pills and went to appointments and wrote in his journal.

It took Cas another year to stop cutting one hundred percent and another two to get over his depression all the way. But eventually he got there, and he was so happy and it made Dean so damn proud.

Another five years and Dean was down on one knee.

Another year and they bought a house out in the suburbs.

Another two years and they adopted their first child. Their second cake shortly after.

An entire lifetime after that was spent together between Dean and Cas, and they were both ready to go when their time came.

An eternity they spent together in their shared heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like? Comment? If you noticed missing tags or grammatical errors please tell me. If you have a prompt idea please tell me. Again, I reiterate, I’m posting this on my phone so it’s probably utter crap but here you go. Thanks!


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